


Up On The Roof

by WetSammyWinchester



Series: Wincest Love Week - Summer 2016 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rooftop celebration and a kiss create more questions than answers.</p><p>Wincest Love Week Summer Edition - Summer Before Stanford prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up On The Roof

The room was quiet when Sam woke up. A glance at the window showed no sign of light yet and another at the clock showed it was 4:15 a.m.

Across the room, Dean's bed was still made, blanket folded neatly. At least his duffel was still at the foot of the bed which means he didn't jump in the car and leave Sam behind after last night.

Sam ran a hand through his sleep mussed hair, calming the strands down, calming his mind down, remembering every detail of what had happened earlier. John left town for a few days after Sam's high school graduation and the boys were celebrating the time on their own with two six-packs of cheap beer on the roof of the house they were living in.

They dragged a few couch cushions out on the small strip of deck outside their window and sat in silence staring up at the stars, shoulders so close that they bumped against each other as they drank.

Sam wasn't much of a drinker, and after three warm beers, he felt warm and loose as if someone had loosened all his joints with some kind of cosmic Allen wrench.

The best part of the night was that Dean was treating him like an adult for once. He had spent all his life being viewed as a child by his father and older brother, always under their protective wings. What they didn't see was that Sam wasn't a kid anymore at 18 and living the life they did, seeing the things they had, he hadn't been one for quite some time. They also didn't see that he had desires and dreams that reached far beyond traveling back roads in the back seat of the Impala.

Sam spent more time tonight studying Dean's face than he did looking at the stars. Why would the sky hold no interest when he could be looking at his brother where he sat with muscular forearms resting on his knees, an open can of Pabst Blue Ribbon dangling from his fingertips, his face tilted up and painted with the moonlight.

"Don't you want something more out of life, Dean?"

His brother looked at him as if surprised out of his own thoughts by the question, eyes reflecting silver and unknowable in the light. "What more could I want? We have plenty of beer and it's a beautiful night. Sounds like a win-win to me, Sammy."

Sam squirmed where he sat cross legged on the thin cushion. "No, I mean for the future. What else do you want? There must be something else, something more than hunting." He willed his brother to look in his eyes, to understand the intent behind words that Sam couldn't say out loud.

"It does no good to think about that. There'll always be plenty of monsters, plenty of hunts, and you gotta just take it one day at a time." Dean reached down between his legs and pulled another beer off the plastic rings of the six-pack and handed it to Sam, their fingers brushing in the transfer.

"But what if I want more?"

He couldn't look at his brother and voice all the things he wanted in that moment. All of it was jumbled up in Sam's mind, from lips and tongues and touches in the middle of the night, to dorms and books and a normal life. He looked back up at the sky. "Maybe we could pack up and move out someplace warm. Take the Impala and drive to California. I could go to school and you could get a job."

Dean chuckled at the last comment. "Really? And what kind of normal job would I get in this dream world of yours? Work as a mechanic in a garage?"

"Why not? You'd be great at it. We could settle down, just the two of us."

Dean gave Sam an odd look at the last part but the alcohol and Sam's low tolerance to it gave him the courage to continue. "It would only be for a few years because I would go to law school and get a job, taking care of both of us. This doesn't have to be our life."

Dean silently set his half full beer to the side, his face revealing nothing. Finally he spoke up. "And what about Dad? We can't leave him behind. He needs our help."

"Dean, Dad doesn't need anything. He's a grown-ass man who is doing what he wants. Maybe it's time for us to do what we want for once."

Dean licked his lips, his eyes flicking over to Sam. The look was nothing different than he gave across the front seat of the Impala every day but it was more than enough of an invitation for Sam to close the few inches between them. The kiss he gave Dean wasn't magical or electric, but sloppy and desperate. Their teeth clicked as Sam grabbed the back of Dean's neck, drawing him in even closer, worried he would run or hide.

At first there was no response from his brother but then Dean tilted his head forward and opened his mouth for Sam's tongue and the kiss become real and soft. The beer left a slightly bitter taste on his tongue but it was still the best kiss that Sam ever had, because it was Dean and he kissing Sam back.

When they finally pulled apart for a breath, Dean took hold of Sam's wrists and pulled his hands away. "Sam... you've had too much to drink. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have given you that beer. You really don't want this."

"I do. Really, I do. I want all of this." He whispered the words as if to speak them louder would break the spell of the moment. "I want more."

Now, a few hours later and a lot more sober, Sam cringed at how Dean didn't respond. He didn't run either, but acted as if the kiss hadn't happened and did nothing more than tuck his drunk little brother in bed before heading out to the nearest bar.

Sam laid in his bed, his head just starting to pound from last night, and wondered if he could take it all back when Dean got home.

He stood up and reached into his duffle bag, pushing aside his clothes and paperbacks to pull out a cream-colored envelope. Stroking the outside of the folded stationery, he became resigned to the fact that he would need to make a choice between the two things he wanted more than anything. Glancing at the empty bed across the room, he thought the decision might already have been made for him.


End file.
